


life's a waste without you and me (i don't wanna be that way)

by DiscoCritic



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: M/M, Midnight walks, Originally Posted on Tumblr, hand holding, i'm a rat sorry, looking at the stars for a brief moment, party poison drops the beginning of his sentences, they're dancing to l'hymme à l'amour by the way, title from 'ode to destruction' by frank iero and the future violents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-17 22:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19963891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscoCritic/pseuds/DiscoCritic
Summary: sometimes fun ghoul just wants poison by his side and poison only.





	life's a waste without you and me (i don't wanna be that way)

**Author's Note:**

> note: in this ficlet i call him poison instead of party! when i think of the name "poison," i think of a tough, rugged dude versus "party," which reminds me of a softer kind of guy. so i switched some stuff up and changed the name, and i think the ficlet turned out much better than it would have otherwise.
> 
> (i dunno, maybe i'm wrong... maybe i'm just over-analyzing this. anyway, enjoy!)

They're out for a walk. 

It's been a few days since they've had any time alone with each other. Ghoul loves the other guys, he loves the kid, but sometimes he just wants Poison by his side and Poison only. Sometimes he just needs to be alone with him. 

It's chilly outside, and as they stroll, the air quiet save for the buzzing of desert crickets, Ghoul picks up Poison's hand and gives it a little squeeze. He leans in and whispers, "Betcha didn't think we'd be doin' this when we first met."

Poison snorts and shakes his head. "Nah, that first week you'dve been dead if I wanted ya t've been."

"Aw, bringin’ up my would-be death on our third date. So romantic." Ghoul nudges him with his shoulder and they veer off the weed-infested path. "Look up."

He points to the sky. They're far enough away from the city to see a world of stars, collections of radiant comets soaring their paths through dustings of planets and nebulas. 

"Bright enough to see with your eyes closed,” Poison replies. He sits down on the gravel and Ghoul follows. Their knees touch, and Ghoul's fingers itch to run through that vibrant red hair. It's too cold to really focus now, so he manages to suppress the urge for the time being as a shiver runs down his body. Goosebumps rise on his arms and he blows hot breath into his hands in an attempt to warm up.

"Cold?" Poison asks. Ghoul nods, and then the blue biker jacket he knows so well is being placed over his shoulders. It smells like Poison, like old leather and acrylic paints and just a hint of something like bay leaves. Ghoul draws it tighter as Poison becomes preoccupies with digging through his pocket. He pulls something out after a few moments of struggling. It's small and rectangular, and Ghoul tries to see what it is between the clenched fingers. 

"Got a surprise for you, Ghoulie," Poison says, turning away to fiddle with it.

"Y'know how I love those," he responds, crossing his left foot over Poison's ankle.

And he loves the man sitting next to him, though those words haven't made their way out of the prison of his lips yet. It's been two weeks since they officially started dating, or whatever counts as such out here, and he hasn't said it once. He's saving it for the right time.

Poison sneaks a glance at him. "Don't look yet." And he's still messing with the thing in his hand, and Ghoul's curiosity is heightening, and he blinks, and then suddenly music is coming out of the tiny device.

There’s a faint orchestral swell and then a woman begins crooning in a foreign language. The notes sound like something preserved for ages, fossils hidden away until this moment. Ghoul doesn't know how Poison managed to find something like this, much less get it to work and then know how to play the music. But he doesn't really want to know. He wants to keep the magic a secret.

"Traded an old pair of boots for this yesterday. I, uh, wanted to do something special for you. It only plays this one song," Poison's lips quirk in a sheepish smile, "but I think it's a good one, huh?"

Ghoul's heart grows wings and soars out of his chest and into the sky. "Let's dance," he says, tugging Poison up. And then they’re swaying back and forth right there, barely any space between the two of them, Ghoul’s hand on Poison’s shoulder and Poison’s arm around Ghoul’s waist. 

“Never slow danced before,” Poison whispers, close enough that Ghoul can feel warm breath tickle his ear, “so 'm sorry if I step on your foot.”

Ghoul drags his thumb over Poison's ear, tucking a stray strand of red behind it, and grins. "You can't be much worse than me."

And they're simply there, moving back and forth like they know how to do this, matching each other's footsteps, surrounded by tumbleweeds and gravel paths and the midnight howls of lonely coyotes, and they're together. 

After a while, Ghoul lays the side of his head against Poison's chest. He can feel the comforting thump of Poison's heartbeat and he sighs contentedly. Everything they go through daily—the exhaustion, the fear, the weeks upon weeks filled with nothing but driving from place to place—this is worth it. This, right here, leaning against his fellow Killjoy and knowing he could let go at any moment and be safe, is worth all of it.

"'Ey," Poison says, eyes crinkling at the corners, his fingers threading through Ghoul's hair, "lemme spin you around."

Ghoul lets Poison twirl him slowly once, twice, to the tinny murmur of the music player. When he ends up back where he started, slightly dizzy from both the spinning and from the way Poison's smiling at him, the single track fades away. He blinks his focus back, and then they're left staring at each other, the moon a perfect halo behind Poison's head. And Ghoul knows, instinctively, that this is the time.

"I love you," he says, his trembling hands clasping Poison's calloused ones. 

Poison exhales softly and he leans down to kiss the little freckle on the bridge of Ghoul's nose. "Love you, too," he whispers, and then they walk back to their campsite, lay down beside the fire, and fall asleep in each other's arms.

**Author's Note:**

> sweet bois.
> 
> requested by an anonymous user on tumblr.  
> follow me and request ficlets @discocritic!


End file.
